


Endless Miles

by That_Familiar_Feeling



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Runaway Michael, Trucker Geoff, micheoff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 17:06:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5135717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_Familiar_Feeling/pseuds/That_Familiar_Feeling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael Jones was running, from his past, from himself, from everything and one he'd ever known.<br/>Geoff Ramsey was always driving, looking for something or someone, anything to give him a reason.</p><p>There are many cheesy lines, about lights in the dark and roads that lead home.<br/>But how many of those lines, mention that in the darkness there are people there. Waiting for you. Waiting for something.</p><p>Or that one time Michael can say "he took my breath away. knocked me right off my feet" and mean it literally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I dreamed of you. I dreamed you were wandering in the dark. And so was I. And we found each other. We found each other in the dark.  
> -Melinda Moores (The Green Mile)

The pavement was cold, soaked with northern rain and warm fluorescence. The gas station is the last stop in this town, about five miles out from the last few parking lots, looking out at the endless stretch of highway like a beacon. The lights flicking between greens and pinks, dancing and mingling in with the tungsten and raindrops. There are three main pumps, one set of doors, and two back pumps for the bigger vehicles. Every window is plastered in signs and missing persons posters. Small gaps of glass in between that looked into the dark store.

 

It had started to rain days ago, and now the sleet turned to drizzle as temperatures rose again. Winter was starting to fade from the highways, leaving behind thick fogs and soft petalage breaking through the cracks in the asphalt.

This late at night or early in the morning- (one wouldn’t be able to tell the difference) there weren’t as many vehicles along the road. The occasional lonely sedan, the somber 18 wheeler. And one young man stumbling into the glow of the closed station.

 

He was soaked through, trembling like a leaf in the brief breezes. A tattered hood drawn up tight over his sunken face, clinging to his pale skin and gaunt frame. He did his best to carry the pack on his shoulders, itself barely hanging on by thin straps. Anything inside was hardly salvageable from the rain. He was hardly salvageable from the rain.

The young man pushed himself to the wall, his hands shaking as he braced himself against the dewy concrete. He fought to catch his breath and grit his teeth, willing every muscle of his being to just stop shaking already. When he relaxed his teeth started to chatter and he cursed, turning to his back and falling against the wall. He could hardly tell the ground was wet where the puddles began soaking into his worn jeans.

He tried to pull the hoodie closer around him, desperate for the warmth. In hindsight he was pretty desperate for a lot of things. Food, good clean water, a new pair of shoes. His sneakers had been worn thin, the soles wouldn't last him many more miles. And he did indeed, have miles to go.

The sky was still dark, inky with clouds and constant mist. The highway stretched out in front of him for miles and miles, in one direction thick swaths of trees and road, in the other lights could be seen through the thick mist. Swirling yellow lights from the last town flicker in and out through the waves. But that town was behind him now, and he planned to keep moving. At least he would after he got out of the weather some. He tugged the black beanie he had on further down across his ears, frowning and trembling.

The lights painted his pale skin with neons, green and pink staining across his skin and fragile body. He looked around with half lidded eyes, everything blurring around his glasses in big annoying splots. He was to tired to try and clean the glasses, they’d only get wet again within seconds. He was so so tired, and maybe he’d be better off just sleeping near the back of the station.

He ground his jaw and worked at his hands shaking his head vigorously. No, no he had to keep walking. If he stopped now then he might not get near as much distance if he just.kept.going. He tried to stand, his legs hardly able to hold his malnourished weight. His head was spinning and he tripped with his first few steps. He cried out weakly when his knees and palms hit the pavement with wet smacks. He was almost thankful for the reminder that he could still feel pain, his palm scrapped and knees bloody.

He groped along the ground, hauling himself up by sheer will power to lean against a pump. He was delirious, forgetting which way the road started and ended. Where was he going, where was he now.

Somewhere between states, Michael Jones was teetering, every step his legs shook and fumbled. Blindly hobbling out onto the highway with half glazed eyes and chattering teeth. His senses so numbed he couldn’t hear until to late the agonizing groan of metal and gasoline.

He surely felt the force of those blazing headlights and the sudden impact of solid metal grill slamming into him, at what speed or actually force he couldn’t tell. He was being thrown down and rolled across the asphalt, a sickening screech of tires made him so very nauseous.His world was spinning rapidly and he could only manage to cry out in a guttural scream of fear...


	2. Chapter 2

The tires screeched against wet pavement, wracking the machine with tremors and fitful moans until the vehicle came to a complete halt and the engines ceased fire.

Inside the cab, time had been snapped in place, like a belt that was kinked and snapped. The air writhed and left the driver disoriented, shell shocked with tinnitus.

His hands were wrapped so tightly around the steering wheel that the ink along his knuckles threatened to pull away. All previous thoughts and worries had been thrown out of him as his chest braced against the vinyl seat belts. For a few short seconds all the man could do was stare at the drops collecting on the windshield.

The rig murmured all her joints aching and her gears sighing. A thick plume of smoke pillowed out of the exhaust, and when the man could gather his senses enough the door opened with a disgruntled cry.

Outside the temperature could have been above the eighties, and still every muscle in his body would be shaking. As he approached the hood his heart in his throat, he could only keep thinking 'oh god don't be dead. Please don't be dead. Good lord above please please pleeeease'

He was so swept up in his own prayerful remorse he didn't hear the pitiful noises coming from the body crumpled on the ground. Not until he was standing above drained of all words and courage.

The young man, he prayed that it wasn’t a child, was half curled into himself and trembling pathetically. Making the most gut wrenching whimpers and cries. The driver eased himself to his knees and reached out slowly, like he was tending to a run over dog instead of a human. He hushed the sobbing boy with gentle coos and shaky hands, forcing them to meet face to face.

In the beam of headlights, the injured boy, surely this couldn't be more than a young man or teenager, looked angelic. His hair was a soaked but wild red mop of ringlets. His skin so ghastly pale and pulled taut he was made cherubic. A deep bruise blossomed across his cheek and face in thick purple, a split lip and busted scalp dribbling thick red rivulets down his chin. His eyes looked dazed but as he caught his breath his eyes adopted a hard glare, set ablaze by whatever emotion had crossed his mind.

He was quite possibly the most beautiful thing Geoff Ramsey had ever seen or harmed in his entire life.

Guilt wormed through his gut as he pulled the young stranger to, how could he have hurt someone like this. Someone who already looked thin enough just a breeze could have knocked him over. His guilt was soon replaced with a raw  anger.  

"What the hell are you doing!" He gripped the younger by the shoulders tightly.  "Are you fucking insane! Who the hell is just wandering the fucking road! I don't know what kind dumb luck you have that I was going slow to start with." He grit his teeth and shook his head violently "shit if I had had a load on me you'd be dead. You'd be fucking dead!" He was yelling and carrying on but his heart was beating so fast there was no other way to contain it.

The stranger's face hardened, a wild fire erupting behind his eyes. "Fuck you to! You ran me over...you just..." His head swayed at the sudden outburst and he clutched at his stomach as it roiled. The driver winced and ran his hand in a soothing circle against the younger’s back. As calming as it was ,the kid was determined," You... you just ran me the fuck over. Holy shit man I..." He groaned and braced his hands against the pavement, crying out weakly before lifting his hands to stare at his busted palm and bleeding fingers. " I could have died.." He was so quiet that Geoff almost didn't hear him over the rigs hum.

Geoff shushed him and used his hands to feel at the kid’s legs and arms,"Ok ok take it easy. Does your neck hurt? What about your head?" He hesitated before holding up his middle finger "Can you count my fingers for me?"

For a second, the boy looked startled. But a rueful laugh started out of him before he could stop. " You fucking asshole" he mumbled and winced." No no- Nothing hurts that bad. I'm dizzy as shit and everything's spinning but I don't think I'm broken.."  A peculiar look crossed his features and he stiffened but Geoff couldn’t decipher it so he let it go.

Nodding Geoff wrapped an arm around the boy's waist, hushing his protests and groans, "Come on, I'm taking you to the hospital..."

The red head jerked forward "No! No you can't please you can't" the sudden exclamation left him gasping for breath. He was trembling even more as Geoff rounded his pleas and sighed.

"I can't just- I can't leave you.." He started to corral the boy towards the passenger door.

"Please. Don't let. Please just. Take me with you for all I fucking care... just no hospitals. Please..." He begged with watery eyes and pushed weakly at Geoff’s chest. Geoff frowned deeply and pushed forward stubbornly.

"Fine. Fine you can just stick with me and I'll patch you up.” This damn kid. He hoisted him up when he started to slip and half carried him till he could be deposited safely inside the rig.

"It's Geoff by the way." He worked on buckling the stranger in and finding a blanket to toss over the shaking form. He could see how malnourished and frozen the boy was from a mile away, so he threw a protein bar and water up onto the console before closing the passenger door and moving around to his side. He didn’t have anything else to offer.

He got inside and buckled in, checking all his mirrors and lights. Moving things around before moving the rig. She jumped to life with a sharp whistle. Rolling across asphalt as he pulled the rig into the gas station's parking lot, turning it back around towards the wavering town lights.

"We'll head into town. I'll get a room at the motel and get some stuff to patch you up. No hospitals, but you need some help kid" he frowned and glanced to his passenger.

The stranger huffed but gave an acknowledging nod. "Fine. I won't tell anyone you tried to kill me" he grumbled before leaning against the door and pressing his head to the window, before he groaned and pulled back mindful of the blood. Geoff shuffled around with one hand before handing him a pack of tissues. "If you can. Try to keep these to your head." He pointedly ignored the others amused look at the readily available tissues. "And no jokes. It's fucking cold and colds suck. So take the damn tissues kid."

The younger laughed some at that and gingerly grabbed the pack. Fumbling around before he could press a wad against the cut in his forehead. "Stop calling me kid."

Geoff rolled his eyes  "You look like you're fourteen. What else am I supposed to say"

"Fuck you man I'm twenty three. And you look like Father Time" he grumbled as Geoff laughed lightheartedly. "Still. Don't call me kid. I'm- I'm Michael." 

Geoff grinned, "Alright then Michael. Pleasure to meet you." At this Michael smiled, then leaned back against the window to watch the lights flicker closer and closer.

 

Inside the cab it was warm, and Geoff had no doubt the kid- Michael, had been freezing the way he settled into the blankets. For now they could settle into the protection that the cab held- watching the rain and mist sweep away the blood and oil left behind in the rear view mirrors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY LOOK CHAPTER TWO OHMYGOD haha  
> I really do like this story a lot. Its being paired up with my work at school while Faking it and left behind are paired up together for at home work. stay tuned!  
> EDIT: Wow the typos. I fixed the most of em tho!


	3. Chapter 3

Michael drifted in and out through out the short trip. Growing ever annoyed as Geoff pestered him to keep him awake. “Concussions..or something…” the man concluded and shrugged.  
But he was warm, and he was able to devour the protein bar as much as his protesting stomach would allow. The water calmed his throat but it was hell to do anything with his hands. If he had any sense or reserve right now, he may have felt guilty for leaving so much blood on Geoff’s stuff. However, Michael Jones at this moment was not very reserve and laughed hysterically at the blurry signs of grocery stores while his almost killer/selfless rescuer looked on bewildered and startled. 

When Geoff eased the rig into a dingy little motel, Michael was hard pressed to keep from swaying forward with the brakes. Everything was blurry and smudged- and he felt like he should know why right? This wasn’t a puzzle he knew why he couldn’t think straight but it just wasn’t coming to him right now. Geoff disappeared for a moment, and Michael whined about the cold air he let into the cab.  
He was mumbling about blurry edges and camera lenses when Geoff came back and helped him out of the rig. Teetering dangerously to the side before Geoff scooped him up and ushered them to the room.

He remembers the rest distantly...like he was watching a movie but he was watching only what he could remember and he hadn’t actually seen it in years. Bits and pieces that made a whole idea but some of it came back in the wrong order.  
Laying down on a stiff bed-the tattered remains of his backpack being pulled away and his equally abused shoes being tugged off- something warm and damp being pressed against his forehead and palms…

For a while there wasn’t much else but feeling. His hearing and sight felt lost to him in the sudden warmth of the room. For the first time in days he was warm and nearly suffocating in it. It was easier now to just relax, let himself drift off further as calloused hands adjusted and flitted over him. At one point there was this sharp sting on his hands and knees and he whined pitifully. He felt like he had been sucking a cotton ball, his throat rough and agitated,he started coughing and whining and it hurt…

A hand smoothed through his hair and tilted his head up so he could drink water. It came back to smooth his curls again and the steady soothing rhythm grounded him against the onset shock and pain. The adrenaline was long gone now and he was left shaking helplessly.  
It was irrational to be so sad when that grounding point lifted from his side and drifted away. To be so whiney and petulant- conscious and sane Michael would have disapproved. But injured and frustrated Michael was happy to be a whiney little thing when and however he so chose.

The hand returned briefly to soothe him again, he could have been angry at the stranger for coddling him so much but he was grateful none the less. “Hush kid...I’ll be back in a minute….. You need some real bandages and medicine…” rasped and worried, Geoff soothed quietly before leaving him.

He wasn’t going to argue. For now he was too tired and content to sleep, even if it hurt he could still pretend that everything was going to a-okay...no matter what demons tried to press against his skull in either an attempt of grief of migraine. Some horrific amalgamation of both maybe. 

He dozed in the room and waited, too spun around to think of what would come next. Content to rest with towels wrapped around his hands and head. Come morning, or rather sometime tomorrow...he could think about it then.


End file.
